The Pain of Leaving
by BitterEloquence
Summary: IDW: Prowl and Springer spend time together before Springer and the Wreckers ship out for Garrus-9 and find themselves reluctant to say goodbye. Springer/Prowl tie-in story to 'The Distances Between'


Disclaimer: I do not own the characters within, nor am I making any money off of this story. All I own are the twisted ideas floating around in my head.

Notes: This is a side-story for my '_The Distances Between'_ fic. It contains spoilers for LSotW and IDW timeline. Thanks for WyntirRose for beta'ing this fic!

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><p>The door had barely slammed shut before the two mechs attacked each other.<p>

At least, that was all you could call the desperate and hungry grappling of limbs and mouths. Springer shoved Prowl against the wall as he invaded the other mech's personal spaces.

Prowl's cry of mingled pain and pleasure was swallowed up by Springer's heady kisses as the green triplechanger rubbed against the tactician hard enough to scrape off two layers of paint.

Snarling like an angry animal, Prowl grabbed roughly at the Wrecker's back-struts and yanked him closer.

Making a wordless sound of approval, Springer gentled his touch, not wanting this to be over so quickly. But judging by the grumble that escaped Prowl's vocalizer, the tactician. wanted nothing to do with softness or tenderness.

Instead, he attacked Springer's mouth with his and bit down sharply on the Wrecker's lower lip component in silent chastisement for trying to make their rare chance at a rendezvous as anything more than what is was.  
>Pure, desperate need for release.<p>

It didn't even matter that they'd continued this 'stress relief' for longer than either had assumed it would last. They rarely got to see each other more than once or twice a stellar cycle and despite visibly loathing one another in public, they tended to go off like a firecracker behind closed doors.

"Easy...whoa slow down, Prowl," Springer gasped, straining for control as he fell back a step in hopes of getting room to think between them.

Impatience flashed across Prowl's faceplates at the sudden unwanted distance between them. Grabbing for Springer's shoulder-struts in a move that would have made any hand-to-hand combatant proud, he spun the Wrecker around and shoved him against the wall so he could pin him there.

"Shut up," Prowl growled, voice thick with passion and something darker, needy.

"Frag of-" Springer's snarled words were cut off mid-sentence by the tactician's mouth covering his once more. Though he'd never admit it out loud, there some something terribly erotic in Prowl being dominant in the berth. The triplechanger was hardly the kind of mech to just lay there passively while another mech had his way with him, but for Prowl when he was in these...moods; well he was willing to make an exception every now and then.

Somehow the constant battle for dominance and one-upmanship in their normal lives translated to some of the best times in the berth he'd ever had. Who would have thought the staid prick could be such an inventive and erotic berthmate?

Or the fact that said prick's hands wandering over his chassis so eagerly could be so slagging addicting?

Finding his will to slow things down a notch evaporating, Springer surrendered himself to Prowl's impassioned bid for a hard and fast overload.

They never even made it to the berth.

Afterward, with the electricity of their overload still jangling through their systems, Prowl and Springer dragged themselves over to the tactician's berth and melted into it with all the languid grace of jell-o.

"Wow," the Wrecker commented tiredly. "I think that was a record."

Prowl grunted in noncommittal agreement as he slung an arm over the triplechanger's waist. With his doors and the assembly on Springer's back in the way, it made post-coital snuggling interesting to say the least but they managed well enough.

"How much time till you have to be back on shift?" Springer asked as he squirmed around in Prowl's arms until he was facing the tactician. Prowl's optics were powered down but the sleepily aggravated look on his faceplates told Springer he wasn't really recharging.

"Two cycles," he mumbled tiredly. "Now let me recharge in peace till then."

"Pfft, recharge is for the weak. And besides that should be just about enough time to have my way with you again before we ship out," Springer teased with a leering grin.

"Right...Garrus-9." That got Prowl's attention and he powered up his optics slowly.

"Frag, you wouldn't believe who's throat I practically had to slit to manage this furlough. After we pick up those newbies of course." This was stated with a distasteful note.

"You'll be careful," Prowl stated with a ghost of his usual stiffness. None of the worry or grim acknowledgment of just how dangerous this assignment was showed on the tactician's faceplates but it hung between them like a stone.

"Of course," the Wrecker agreed readily enough. "And afterward, why don't we see about trying to arrange out schedules for a real vacation."

"I think we'd be at each others' throats within a day," Prowl pointed out pragmatically.

"Yeah but just think about how hot the makeup interfacing would be," Springer countered with a suggestive look. "Seriously, just a few days off, no war, no Wreckers, just you and me trying to blow your circuits with the best 'face you ever had."

Predictably, Prowl groaned at the terrible line. "Shut up, Springer." But he did pull the triplechanger closer for a tender kiss that was nothing like the rough and violent kisses they'd shared mere breems before.

"Yes, sir," Springer mumbled against Prowl's lip components before they surrendered themselves to a much softer passion.

Afterward, they barely had enough time to clean the paint off their bodies.

"I meant it," Springer stated while scrubbing off the last traces of his paint off of Prowl's doors.

"Hmm?" Prowl asked distantly, his optics half powered down with pleasure at that soft buffing.

"After this mission, find some time off. I don't care where we go."

Prowl froze and gently tugged his door out of the triplechanger's grip and turned under the spray to eye the Wrecker cautiously. "It doesn't work that way, Springer. I can't just take a deca-cycle off just because I want to."

A rebellious look flickered across the green mech's faceplates.

Sensing they were on their way to a fight, Prowl found himself reluctant to part with bad energon between them. Truth be told, he was more than a little surprised at that reluctance but even he knew they'd moved beyond just simple pleasure. They'd taken that first tremulous step into a 'relationship' a long time ago.

"Springer…" he started carefully. "We'll discuss it when you get back, okay?" Prowl stated neutrally even as his logic protocols went mad. He and Springer both knew the Garrus-9 mission was practically a suicide mission. The tactician knew that all too well because he'd been the one to plan it.

Logically, he knew there was a very good chance this would be the last time he saw Springer. There was an unfamiliar ache in his spark chamber as long-suppressed emotional protocols threatened to break free of the iron-clad control Prowl had over them.

"Maybe something can be arranged." He made that empty promise easily enough and though they did not talk about it, both knew it was little more than wistful thinking on both their parts.

"Turn around, I still need to get a few spots," Springer said, voice gruff and straining with a sudden upwelling of emotion. To fight back those traitorous feelings, he physically turned the tactician around and attacked the last traces of green paint with grim determination.

Gasping almost inaudibly, Prowl belatedly dampened the sensor feedback from his doors. The last thing either of them needed was to get hot and bothered all over again. As it stood, he was running the risk of being late for his shift as it was.

Unfortunately, it just felt..._good_.

Thankfully for his fraying sanity and control, the Wrecker finished up shortly after and roughly turned off the shower.

"Come on, you're going to be late. And then I'll never hear the end of it." Trying to lighten the mood, Springer tugged Prowl out of the washracks and they spent a pleasurable breem just grooming each other.

Each found themselves lingering longer than they should have been with drying the other off. They weren't overly romantic mechs for the most part. It made their lingering reluctance all the more remarkable.

"You're late," Springer pointed out needlessly.

"I know," but Prowl made no move to break away and continued to wipe at Springer's armor until it was squeaking and dry.

Finally however, they couldn't put things off any longer and uncomfortable silence fell between them.

"I gotta go," the Wrecker finally said reluctantly.

"Be careful." It was as close as Prowl was going to get to voicing apprehensions, his feelings.

"Of course, aren't I always?" Springer teased with false cheer. He made an abortive move for the door but turned around abruptly dragged Prowl in another heated kiss.

The tactician stiffened initial in surprise but quickly returned that impassioned kiss.

While neither had the ball bearings to voice the extent of their feelings, both seemed bound and determined to express it through that kiss. And thus, underscored beneath the desperate passion, regret and reluctance to let go echoed between them.

"I have to go..." Springer repeated again as he mumbled those words against Prowl's mouth.

"I know, go." That ache was back but the tactician did his best to ignore it. "I'll see you when you get back."

Springer stared silently at Prowl for a long moment as though he were trying to burn the memory of him into his memory cortex.

"Right," he said with a curt nod and turned once more towards the door. Pausing there, he looked back over his shoulder and granted Prowl another one of his insufferable smirks. "You might want to touch up your paint before you leave. I think I missed a spot."

Startled, Prowl looked down at his torso and found a fresh streak of garishly green paint rubbed across his chest. "Slagger," he accused without any real heat.

Chuckling to himself, Springer let himself out and headed down towards the docking bay where he'd met up with his fellow Wreckers.

And that was when everything changed.


End file.
